The Leaning Lion
by LieselLisaBeth
Summary: Following a change at Downton, the Bates decide to quit putting off their dreams and make some changes for themselves. Canon, but I've moved things forward. (I'm really enjoying writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much.) Happy reading!
1. Chapter 1

_Preface: This is mostly canon, but I've moved forward with the timeline. Lady Mary has married Lord Gillingham. They will inherit Gillingham's title and estate when the time comes, but they stay at Downton because Lord Gillingham's family had to sell their large house and all move into the Dower House (which he says in S4). Downton is big enough to house all of them, and let's face it, they want the larger staff. Also, George will one day inherit Downton, and Tom is slowly teaching him management of the estate. Gillingham and Mary were unable to have a child – which they put down to Mary being in her mid to late 30s already, but are not unhappy about this as there is really only a title and no estate to pass to future generations. George is nearly 13. Molesley is Gillingham's valet. Most of what you just read is irrelevant to the story, but it's background info. The rest, I think you can figure out. No spoilers : )_

* * *

"They've let another fifty go from the mine. Mr. Branson was just telling Lady Mary," Molesley stated with concern as he took his seat at tea.

"Is there no more coal to be had?" Ruth, a young housemaid, asked.

"Oh there's plenty down there. But they're not wanting it overseas anymore." Mrs. Hughes shook her head in pity.

"It's only a matter of time before that Slump reaches us," Thomas said with dismal certainty. "You can be sure of that."

"Alfred says things aren't so bad in the south, where all the new factories are," Daisy said as she set down a plate of cheese.

"And the question is… What are we going to do when it gets here?" Thomas continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"If this country can survive the Great War, we are certainly more than prepared to survive a passing economic crisis," Mrs. Hughes countered.

Mr. Carson opened his mouth to add, but the scraping of chairs drowned out any further conversation as Lady Grantham appeared in the servants' hall doorway.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt." She struggled to smile politely around the table. "Lord Grantham and I would like for all the staff to please join us in the entrance hall in ten minutes." And with shining eyes above another fleeting smile she was gone.

A charged cloud settled in the room. Nobody dared move in fear of causing the lightning to strike.

"Blimey…" Mr. Molesley managed before daggered looks from both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes silenced him.

Unsaid fears and prayers echoed throughout the hall while the servants' slowly met one another's faces, desperate to find one that didn't mirror the shock and fear on their own. Tears threatened the corners of Daisy's eyes as she clung to the tea pot like a child. The question wasn't whether this be good or bad news, but rather - how bad would it be?

"Well, one thing's certain." Mrs. Hughes stood with resolve and held her head high. "We won't find out sitting down here."

* * *

Daisy timidly made her way to Anna's left at the front of the crowd of servants, leaving Mrs. Patmore to hide near the back by the hall boys and tweenies.

Anna quickly released her grasp of Mr. Bates' upper arm and gave Daisy a quick smile of welcome before turning her attention to the Crawleys.

Lord and Lady Grantham, Lord Gillingham, Lady Mary, Tom, and Master George all stood in a solemn arc against the front doors, eyes taking everyone in as the room filled.

"Thank you all for joining us." Lord Grantham stepped forward after everyone had stopped moving. "There's no easy way to say it... I'm afraid this economic downturn is not as fleeting as we'd all hoped." He paced in front of his family, hands clasped behind his back.

"We've been very proactive in attempting to strengthen our finances, but it seems we haven't succeeded." He stopped in the center of his family and faced the servants directly.

"There is simply no money to be made when there's no money to be had." Lord Grantham's eyes travelled through the crowd of worried yet respectful servants. But then he took in the ornate tapestries and rugs, the elaborate furniture behind sturdy doors. All of it would have to go. All of it.

His eyes floated up to the gallery and cascaded down the grand staircase. What a marvelous staircase. How many footprints of his and his wife and daughters did those steps hold? He smiled as he pictured a very young Sybil hopping up each step with both feet at the same time all the while reaching up to cling to the banister, something Nanny was forever scolding her about. They were the same stairs he'd careened up and down himself as a child, as had many earls before him. And now they would never belong to another. What would his father think of him now?

"What Lord Grantham means," Lady Mary stepped forward when it was clear her father hadn't the words to continue. "Is that we are not yet in an emergency situation. We've prepared the best we can, and we mean to do the absolute best by all of you." Her chin was high. "You've all done so much for us. You don't deserve any less." She seemed to have been addressing Mr. Carson, but her eyes flitted over to Anna. She blinked quickly before returning to matters at hand.

"It will be several months before we need to make any real changes, but we'd like to encourage you to begin seeking employment elsewhere."

A ripple ran through the gathering as the impending doom was confirmed.

"Remember," Lady Mary reminded loudly to calm the energy, "It won't be sudden, and things could look up any day now." She shrugged and spread her hands with a smile, but this did nothing to reassure the staff. Somewhat defeated, she clasped her hands in front of her chest. It was a near prayer.

"We will keep all of you on as long as we possibly can. And please know that when this crisis ends and things are as they once were that you will all be so very welcome here again." Lady Mary's eyes were filled with mourning as they met Anna's again, but still she smiled around the room.

When the ticking of the grandfather clock in the silence became overwhelming, Lady Mary spoke again.

"Thank you all for being available on such short notice. Please let us know if we can assist you in your future endeavors in any way."


	2. Chapter 2

"I still can't get over the shock of it." Mrs. Baxter did still look dumbfounded.

Though it had been many busy hours since the announcement, nobody needed clarification as to what she was referring.

"We'll manage. This will be a much harder change for them upstairs than it will be for us," Mrs. Hughes acknowledged.

"And what are you on about? You're not going anywhere, and you know it. You and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore won't be out that door until they're penniless," Thomas said spitefully between drags.

"As it should be," Anna chided.

"But there's hardly work for servants anymore." Mr. Molesley was reminiscing fearfully about his days between the times of Mr. Crawley and Downton. He didn't think he could manage road work and delivering again. Not at his age. "They're hardly the first to go. Frankly, I don't know how we've hung on so long."

Miss Baxter smiled consolingly at him as she reached out to clasp his hand on the table. She understood his fears, but was more crestfallen than worried. Downton had been a good place for her, for all of them.

"There are service jobs. The life is just a bit different. That's all." Mrs. Hughes insisted.

"And who's to say we can't do something else?" Anna suggested coyly as she looked at Mr. Bates.

Bates smiled faintly and nodded. He certainly hadn't forgotten their long-ago made plans, but he didn't want to appear gleeful in such a solemn group.

Turning reassuringly to a fuming Thomas, Anna said "You'll find something." She looked pointedly at Molesley. "We _all_ will."

Thomas glared at her, stubbed his cigarette, and strode defiantly from the servants' hall.

Mrs. Hughes diverted her attention to the young scullery and parlour maids whispering fervently at the other end of the long table.

"I think it's high time all of you turned in."

She stared with raised eyebrows and a no-nonsense frown as the teenagers filed respectfully out of the servants' hall, She didn't doubt they'd simply take their conversation upstairs. But at least they'd be out of the way.

"They'll probably all be gone before the week's out." Mr. Bates speculated.

"I don't doubt that." Mrs. Hughes sighed with defeat. Exactly which services would they sacrifice first?

"I think it's about time we turned in as well." Anna looked to Mr. Bates for agreement before rising.

"Yes, it must be well after midnight," he conceded, and the two made their way out to the passage.

The pair had already lit a lamp to walk with and were putting on their outdoor wear when Mrs. Hughes caught up with them.

"I wondered if I might have a word."

"Should I go ahead, Mrs. Hughes?" Bates put his hand on the door knob, his other hand offering the lamp to Anna to carry home.

"Please stay. It's a question for you as well."

Bates shifted his weight back to the cane.

"I was wondering what the two of you had planned… As far as…"

"As far as staying or going," Anna finished for her.

"Yes."

"Well we hadn't really discussed it yet," Anna looked to Bates.

"The reason I ask is that I am getting on. It might be time I handed the keys to someone else."

"And… You thought… me." Anna was surprised.

"I'd train you up a bit, if it's what you want."

"Does Mr. Carson plan on retiring as well?" Anna asked.

"I haven't spoken to him yet," she sighed.

"Yes, where was Mr. Carson this evening?" Bates searched both faces.

"Mourning I'm sure. Mourning for the family, for the servants, for this cursed Slump. For the end of an era really.

"Give him some time. He'll pull through," Anna consoled.

"Aye. He will. And Thomas was right. He and Mrs. Patmore and I are probably set for employment until we die. But won't it be mighty quiet if we're the only three here?" Mrs. Hughes turned and gazed down the already empty corridor, her heart pained at imagining that silence as a permanent state.

"Mrs. Hughes, did you know?" Anna asked.

Mrs. Hughes turned and spread her hands with a look of helpless honesty.

"I didn't. Mr. Carson may have, but there's not a secret he's withheld from me for quite some time. I imagine that made the shock even greater, not having been warned before the rest of us."

"I imagine he feels somewhat betrayed," Mr. Bates supplied understandingly.

"Yes. But it was right of them to tell us all at once. And in person. It wouldn't have been right to ask either him or me to walk around keeping that secret." She shook her head again.

"Mrs. Hughes… It will be alright." Anna rubbed Mrs. Hughes arm, not caring about risking disresepect.

"Well of course it will," she smiled. "It always is. But it'll be different. There's no denying that." She took the hand caressing her arm, patted it motherly, and mournfully walked away.

"Let me know what you've decided in the morning," she told the staircase.

* * *

_A/N - We're getting all the background info at the moment, and that can feel somewhat stagnant (maybe it's because I read it a million times before posting.) But I do solemnly swear (that I am up to no good) and that our story will zone in on our most beloved wedded couple very shortly. Thank you so much for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

John bolted the door to the cottage and set the small lamp on the table as Anna went to put the kettle on. The two had made small talk about the starry, inky sky above the frosted February grounds and Master George's growing interest in politics during the easy stroll home, not wanting to discuss private matters for the cool night breeze and anyone who might also be strolling in it to hear.

"Well that was quite a surprise, wasn't it?" Anna said brightly when she heard the chink of the bolt.

"The end of Downton or Mrs. Hughes suggesting you be Housekeeper?"

"Both really." Anna faced John with a sigh. "I can't take Mrs. Hughes' job. She needs to stay as long as she's able."

"It was kind of her to make sure we'd be looked after," John said as he removed his outdoor wear.

Anna joined him at the coat rack.

"But she needn't worry about us. We've got plans." The corners of Anna's mouth stretched upward smugly.

"Plans we've been putting off for quite some time." John's eyes shone.

"And suppose they release all the valets and ladies maids and keep just the housekeeper?" Anna said rather contemptuously.

"But suppose she and Mr. Carson retire together?" John smiled mischievously as he took his seat at the cozy table.

"What, so those two get to ride off into the sunset while you, me, and Mrs. Patmore get stuck cleaning and running the whole of Downton by ourselves, is that it?" Anna took her seat opposite him in the intimate bronze glow. "Or are you suggesting it be me, Mrs. Patmore, and Mr. Molesley?" she teased. They listened to the wind lightly call its greetings from outside the door.

"Are you alright with it?" Anna's forehead creased.

"I am much more than alright as long as I have you," John reached for her hand across the table. "And there are certain… limitations… of life in service." He stroked her thumb.

Anna returned his sultry look with a coy smile, but this conversation wasn't quite over.

"Do you think she asked Miss Baxter? I dare say she and Mr. Molesley won't want to be separated." Anna was amused.

"I wonder why they don't make it official." John looked thoughtful as he searched his memories for something Molesley might've mentioned.

"I think the poor man is afraid to acknowledge having something good in his life. Afraid that if he does, it'll disappear."

"How very sad." But John knew it was true.

"Did you suspect?" Anna asked when the whistle of the kettle brought the two out of their reverie.

"I don't think there's much left to 'suspect' where Molesely and Miss Baxter are concerned." John gave an embarrassed cough.

Anna giggled. "No, silly. I mean about Downton." She clarified with a note of seriousness. Leaving the tea to steep, she returned to the table.

"Lord Grantham did mention something rather coded several times. But I thought he was referencing raising goats or selling furniture or cars or… I never thought they'd lose it all." His eyelids fluttered in disbelief.

"And poor Mr. Carson. How could he not have known?" Anna's heart melted at the thought of what he must be feeling.

"He'll be as put out as the Crawleys when this is all finished. He takes such pride in his work."

Anna shook her head as she stood.

"Whatever will they do?"

The floor creaked grumpily, as though it would rather she were asleep at this time of night instead of plodding across it making tea. A tingling happiness took hold in Anna's core as she collected two of the blue-flowered cups and saucers from the set passed down from John's mother. The sensation bubbled and grew, sending excitement and joy in golden waves through her heart and to the tips of her fingers and toes like internal, hopeful sunlight.

Her hands may have been pouring tea, but Anna's mind was gazing at a perfect, quaint cottage inn on the corner across from an equally quaint pub with an aromatic bakery next door in a charming hamlet near a river. Everything was perfect, surreal even, the way that future's promises are always picturesque through the rose-colored glasses of hope.

Anna was absolutely giddy by the time she'd plopped back down in her seat.

"I feel I should be more upset about this, but I just can't manage it. Not when I know I'm going to be happy with you."

John hadn't seen such a youthful, gleeful glow from his wonderful wife in many years. He smiled as he remembered their very first late night they'd dreamed of the future, their shared future together.

"We'll have to be more reserved about our joy whilst around the others."

"Yes," Anna sighed. "I suspect we will."

She pulled her chair close and leaned over the table until the steam floating up from her tea wound its way around her cheekbones.

"We've got plans to make, you and I." But her eyes suggested a plan that would make them happier in the more immediate future.

"I thought we already had plans." He leaned in to meet her eye level, his lips only inches from hers. "You and I."

"Remind me then." She straightened and sipped her tea, keeping a pleasant, unblinking gaze locked with her husband. She sat as expectantly as a child awaiting a favorite bedtime story.

"Right now," John smiled at her insistence, "My plans are to share a lovely cup of tea with my wonderful wife. In the morning, I and my wonderful wife will tell our employers we plan to leave as soon as we can get settled elsewhere. I shall then visit with those same employers about a possible day off for looking at prospective inns." John took a moment to enjoy his tea.

"Where should we go?" Anna brimmed with excitement.

"With all Thomas's talk about the slump, you'd think England was as bad off as Germany or America, but he's got it wrong. We'll be fine so long as we avoid the mining towns."

"But I reckon Alfred might be right in that letter to Daisy. I really do relish the idea of staying near everyone, staying here, but I think we'd better head south."

"Do you know… We may have enough saved to buy an inn without selling the house, a modest inn at least."

"And we could keep renting. In case business is a slow start."

"You've read my mind," he sighed.

"Good. Now maybe you can read mine." Leaving the half-finished tea still steaming on the table, Anna gracefully stood, caressed her lover's hand with both her own, and led him to the first of many good things ahead.

* * *

_A/N - I'll freely admit I have a little trouble writing Bates because I don't understand him as well. In the actual show (S4), he keeps surprising me. (Polite for I'm currently finding Fellowes' writing of him a little inconsistent.) And of course, prison does change a person. But I very much enjoyed who Bates was in S1, and I felt that character was consistent, so that's the version of Bates in this story._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N - I got some unexpectedly nice reviews from you after the last chapter. It seems I'm actually entertaining some of you. I hope I can keep that up! Thanks for rolling with me on occasional imperfections. Thanks for reading everyone!_

* * *

Already the savory aroma of sausage permeated the downstairs corridor and danced with the sounds of scraping, clanking, and Mrs. Patmore's shouting that were ever present in the kitchen. Mr. Carson glided through the downstairs corridor resolutely, a man valiantly keeping up all pretense of normalcy despite the pang of impending doom in his gut and his inexplicable injury of pride. He made his way to his butler's pantry, nodding grimly at Anna as he passed and shutting the door behind him.

Anna's heart went out to the man. She paused for a second as the waves of his grief washed over her. She wished there were something she could do, but the approaching tinkling of Mrs. Hughes' keys reminded her she had an agenda this morning. She met the housekeeper at the bottom of the servants' staircase.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes," Anna greeted brightly.

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes was somewhat surprised and looked too frazzled for such an early hour. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Bates and I wanted to thank you for your interest in our well-being. But I feel I could not fill your shoes. Nobody could, Mrs. Hughes." Anna hoped her cheerfulness was contagious.

And it had been. Mrs. Hughes' cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment.

"So what are your plans? Or are you telling?" A near-cunning smile passed over her face as though she were about to be privy to old hen gossip.

"Well, we've always had this dream of running an inn, just something small."

"Oh, that sounds lovely." Mrs. Hughes grasped Anna's hands with the tenderness and excitement she'd share with a daughter. "I'm so very happy for you both, truly I am."

Anna knew she was, even though the sage housekeeper's eyes were no longer meeting hers but were instead travelling the long passageway and gazing up the staircase. One of Mrs. Hughes' hands had released Anna and begun absentmindedly caressing the banister.

_My_ banister Mrs. Hughes dared to imagine. What would become of that staircase when there were no more feet tapping a lively rhythm on it? Wouldn't the walls ache without the symphony of laughter and heartache, toil and tribulation, and most importantly - outrageous whispered secrets brought from upstairs?

"Some buildings are not meant to be empty." Mrs. Hughes spoke offhandedly. "Schools and hospitals and such."

"Mrs. Hughes, if you think that after over two decades spent with me and half of us still down here you think you'll get rid of any of us that easily, you've got another thing coming." Anna raised her eyebrows at the matronly figure.

Mrs. Hughes laughed, as Anna had hoped she would.

"Of course. Forgive an old woman's sentimental nonsense." She shook off her moment of weakness.

"We've both got lives to lead," she called as she hurried to the kitchen.

* * *

"Daisy, whatever are you doing? Waiting for the paint to peel?"

Daisy, who'd been bouncing on her heels and craning like a giraffe in an attempt to see the back door, suddenly scuttled to the cutting board with her washed vegetables.

"I was only checking for the grocery delivery, that's all."

"I see. And are you awaiting the food or the lad who brings it?"

Daisy blushed and busied herself as Mrs. Hughes entered the kitchen.

"Everything going all right in here, Mrs. Patmore?"

"As peachy as apple pie," she smirked.

"Of course. Well, Her Ladyship would like me to inform you that Old Lady Gillingham, as well as Mr. Gregston and Lady Edith, will be in for dinner tomorrow evening."

Mrs. Patmore plopped her wooden spoon in the stock pot with contempt and began to stir vigorously.

"Oh good!" she exclaimed with mock brightness. "Just in time for half the scullery and kitchen maids to have resigned!"

"Yes, I would presume so," Mrs. Hughes conceded.

* * *

"Of course, Bates. You must do what's best for you and Anna. I'm very happy for you." But his eyes were downcast. His crippled valet would do a better job providing for his family than he himself could.

Bates brushed the shoulders of Lord Grantham's jacket.

"Thank you, M'Lord. I only wish you weren't facing such hardship."

Lord Grantham held up his hand to halt Bates' brushing and turned to face him.

"I never thought it would come to an end, not really." He walked to the window and despairingly gazed out upon the endless acres that would soon be taken from him. "But I was a fool to be blind for so long."

"You weren't blind, M'Lord. This depression is beyond your control."

Lord Grantham gave a hideously mirthless laugh.

"But the death of our way of life – it's been looming for decades. So many were ruined after the war. And then Shrimpy… Even with Lord Gillingham living under our own roof, I still let myself believe we were immune."

"M'Lord, if I may, you and your family have all proved your skill in a variety of tasks. If you could think of this as merely a change, I know you will – "

"A _change_!" Lord Grantham faced Bates in an explosive fury. "You call losing one's home and estate, one's possessions, one's income and way of life a _change_!?"

"Of course it is difficult, M'Lord. I didn't mean – "

"No," he regained his composure. "No, I know you didn't," Lord Grantham resumed his gazing out the window. The view was overly beautiful, a rare, cloudless, brilliant forbearer of summer. His own estate was mocking him.

"But when I think of how I've let Master George down…"

"Master George is a sharp young man who has a good future in whatever he chooses."

But Lord Grantham was not convinced.

Knowing further comment would be impertinent, Bates silently stowed the brush and gathered the pajamas to be taken to the laundry. He slowly tidied the bureau and smoothed the bed, allowing Lord Grantham a final opportunity to speak anything else that may have been on his mind. When he kept his silence, Bates made his way to the door.

"Bates..." Lord Grantham remained facing the window. "Take whatever time you need to plan for your very fortunate future." Though he knew the earl was only angry with himself, Bates nearly stumbled from the force of such intense bitterness.

* * *

"I can't pretend I won't miss you." Lady Mary's eyelashes fluttered at Anna's reflection above her close-lipped, utterly proper smile. She was seated primly at her vanity, her ramrod back to Anna, who was bustling about the room. "Frankly, I don't know what I'll do without you." Her breath caught. Shock coursed through her in a cold wave of realization at just how far the tentacles of loss could slither and twist. They left a numbing sting each time one thrashed out and latched onto one of the remaining pieces of what would soon be the ghost of her world.

Anna laid the matching mauve hat, coat, and gloves on the bed for Lady Mary's morning visit to the village. She then selected an ornate silver necklace with a teardrop sapphire and clasped it around her employer's neck.

"It'll still be many weeks M'Lady. You may even have to turn us out before then."

"Oh Anna." Her voice broke. Tears threatened but were gone well before they started, a mere memory of a child's unbridled emotions. She was silent until she saw a smile from her reflection. "But where will I be without your counsel?"

Though she was touched by Lady Mary's insecurity, Anna giggled.

"M'Lady, it's been _years_ since you've needed any real advice from me. And you're with a good man, one you can trust."

"Yes, but… When I think of all you've been through with me…" There were so many changes ahead. God knew where they'd be living or what they'd even be wearing in a year's time. She'd steeled herself for that, all of it and so much more. Yet still, inexplicably, this particular loss had caught her by surprise.

Lady Mary bowed her head in slight embarrassment.

"I suppose I was picturing you and Mr. Bates still with us, in whatever shack we find ourselves living in." She shook her head with a sigh. "How childish of me."

"M'lady, you will do wonderfully. And if I may say, the postal service is very reliable. And failing that, our inn will probably have a telephone."

Lady Mary grinned sheepishly at her lap while Anna double checked that her hair its usual state of perfection.

"Don't you worry, M'Lady. There's nothing that'll come your way that you can't handle." She peered intently into the mirror until Lady Mary's eyes met hers and showed they understood her sincerity.

Lady Mary straightened and filled her lungs, returning to her standard fortress state.

"Of course. We'll manage. We always do."


	5. Chapter 5

"Are the leeks chopped yet?" Mrs. Patmore was bent ungracefully, fishing the potato wedges from the belly of the stove. When Daisy didn't answer, she smacked the steaming tray on the counter.

"Daisy!"

The large chunk of cheddar near flew from Daisy's hands.

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore?"

"Before next Thursday, if you don't mind."

Under the burn of Mrs. Patmore's glare, Daisy hurriedly placed the cheese out of sight behind the wooden bowl of freshly washed, but still whole, leeks. She winced and steeled herself.

"And what was it that - ?"

"Leeks!"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore," she replied with a jump to work.

It was all Joe's fault Mrs. Patmore was always having to bark at her, making her feel like a hopeless young kitchen maid again. But it was well deserved. She hadn't been performing up to standard for weeks now. Daisy slid a cutting board toward herself and started vigorously on the crisp bunch.

Joe and his mystical eyes, his bluebells on the moor. She had to gaze so far up to see them. Joe and his coffee hair, forever tousled from removing his cap with every delivery he made. Joe and his strong, lanky limbs that carried his boxes so swiftly and easily. He'd be by soon. Very soon.

Daisy eyed the bread and cheese she'd set by for him, now carefully hidden from Mrs. Patmore's notice between the canisters of salt and flour. Not that it much mattered. Mrs. Patmore had long ago caught on to Daisy's game, though she was kind enough to look the other way.

Daisy scraped the uniformly chopped bits back into the bowl and deposited them into the soup.

And there he was.

"Hello, Mrs. Patmore." He grinned bashfully. It was the only smile he had, and it made him look as though he were constantly being caught reading a note from an admirer.

"Running a bit late, are you?" she commented as she sliced the ham. But she wasn't ungrateful.

"A bit." He set the box on a stool and waited for any further instruction.

Daisy rushed over with her small plate of cheese and bread.

"It's nearly lunch. You must be hungry." She hoped the bread hadn't gone stale in his tardiness.

He met her eyes appreciatively.

"Are you this kind to the paper boy as well?"

"Certainly not!" Mrs. Patmore chimed in indignantly from across the kitchen.

Joe cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"I could stay while you check the order if you like," he offered before devouring half the bread in a single bite.

"Oh you will, will you? How kind." She commented snarkily as she began to fuss with crimping a pie crust. "I know _Daisy_ appreciates it."

Daisy averted her wide eyes in horror and prayed Joe had gone temporarily deaf. She snatched the empty plate from Joe's hands and rushed it to the sink before anything more could be said.

"Yes, well… Just ring if anything's out of order." He nodded at Daisy. "Thank you for lunch. It was kind."

And just as quickly, he was gone.

"Why don't you just tell him when your afternoon off is?" Mrs. Patmore implored. "Then maybe my kitchen could get back to normal."

"I don't know what you mean." Daisy didn't look up from pitting the cherries.

"No." Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

* * *

"Your father will call some of the museums first I suppose." Lady Grantham was adorning a cream silk glove and strolling next to her eldest daughter through the gallery.

"And if they don't want them?"

"You heard Mr. Bricker. They'll want them."

Excited was an incredible understatement when it came to the art historian's reaction to Downton's well-preserved collection.

"But are you sure he'll do it? Poor Papa. He can't seem to bring himself to do much of anything anymore."

A sigh escaped from Lady Grantham as she met her daughter's mixture of concern and disapproval with a look of helpless understanding.

Anna offered a polite smile below downturned eyes as she approached the pair on her way to return Lady Mary's newly mended purple hat.

"Anna. I'm so glad we ran into you. Lady Mary and I are visiting Mrs. Crawley this morning, but I wondered if you might help Lady Mary with something this afternoon?"

"Oh, Mama. Must it all go at once? Couldn't we at least see how the paintings fare?"

"Today. And we'll leave for London tomorrow." With a less firm tone, Lady Grantham returned her attention to Anna. "I'll need Baxter to sort mine out. You'll let her know?"

"Of course, Your Ladyship."

Shrinking under a pointed look from her mother, Lady Mary shook her head in defeat. She spoke detachedly, her poise never faltering, though the slightest heat of annoyance escaped her lips.

"Lady Grantham and I need to pack some of our jewelry and the late Old Lady Grantham's things to sell in London."

"I'll be sure everything is packed with great care."

"Lady Mary nodded her approval and thanks.

"And I'll be supervising to make sure we keep the sensible things." Lady Grantham supplied to her daughter sternly.

The contemptuous daughter resisted the temptation to send her eyes heavenward and settled for another sigh instead. She certainly wasn't a child. It took no skill to sell off your own wardrobe.

"How is the search for the inn?" Lady Grantham asked overly brightly, as though speaking to one of her grandchildren.

Anna was taken aback by the sudden change of focus to herself.

"As it happens, we've had rather a bit of trouble finding anything for sale, in the south at least. That's where we'd like to go. But there are a fair few places up here of course."

"Yes, well. There's a reason for that." Lady Mary surmised knowingly.

"I know the right thing will come up." Again Lady Grantham was reassuring condescendingly.

"Thank you, Your Ladyship." Feeling pleased and suddenly hopeful, Anna started on her way again.

"Anna…" The call came from Lady Grantham. "The strangest thought just… Well it's not strange. It's a wonder we hadn't already considered it."

"Mama?"

Hesitation enveloped Lady Grantham. She tread lightly.

"I suppose you and Bates could use Downton to test your wings."

Confusion bubbled from both Anna and Lady Mary. Anna had been building her skills for over twenty years. She certainly thought she and her husband were capable of running a cozy inn.

"I know it wouldn't save things, but if you want the practice…"

Understanding began to dip its toe in the water.

"Your Ladyship, that's ever so kind of you to think of us, but I'm afraid Mr. Bates and I don't have near the savings to purchase anything the size of Downton."

"Certainly I don't mean _buy_ it. I more meant manage it."

Lady Mary's appalled, open-mouthed face volleyed from her mother to her maid through the oddest exchange she'd ever seen between the two.

"But Mr Branson manages – "

"The estate, yes. But there's so much more to be done with a hotel."

Lady Mary's voice was finally able to dig its way out of shock.

"But, Mama, would you really have strangers stay with us?"

Lady Grantham's next words were carefully considered, and she spoke at a near whisper.

"They wouldn't have to stay with us. We could live in the Dower house. And I imagine Cousin Isabelle would house a few of us."

Lady Mary gaped at her mother and opened her mouth to protest this atrocity, but she shut it just as abruptly. Until this moment, they'd all been in silent agreement, valiantly pretending Downton was salvageable with their backs purposely turned to their ever-encroaching demise. Downsize the staff, rent the cottages, sell the paintings and the cars and the jewelry – all of it an endless series of ploys to put off the inevitable. But it was only smoke and mirrors. The white elephant was in the room.

Determined to embrace change with grace and dignity, Lady Grantham spoke resolutely.

"Downton will soon be available. Keep it in mind."

Muffled, dainty footsteps disappeared down the staircase as Anna goggled after them. First Mrs. Hughes, and now Lady Grantham. She supposed she should start expecting shocks on a bi-weekly basis. Perhaps John was being offered the pig farm at this very moment.

She surveyed the exquisite gallery surrounding her. The rug, the banisters, the archways, each item was its own masterpiece. It was incredible that she could've become immune to such beauty over her years in service. How could anyone grow accustomed to such grandeur?

Setting off down the corridor, Anna began calculating just how many bedrooms were in the abbey. She paused as she began to open Lady Mary's door. Dare she even think it? It… could work.


End file.
